Four-Way Stop
by chapeloflove
Summary: Dreamers should go with dreamers, and the realists with the realist's right? But what will happen when Quinn and Santana, long time girlfriends meet Rachel and Brittany another couple. How will the four girls deal meeting each other at a four-way stop. Brittana/ Faberry
1. Better Off Lactose Intolerant

Four-Way Stop

Chapter One

Better Off Lactose Intolerant

Part I- First Meetings

Summary: Dreamers should go with dreamers, and the realists with the realist's right? But what happens when Quinn and Santana, long time girlfriends meet Rachel and Brittany another couple. How will the four girls deal meeting each other at a four-way stop.

* * *

"There are dreamers and there are realists in this world, you think the dreamers would find the dreamers and the realists would find the realists, but more often than not the opposite is true. See the dreamers need the realists to keep the dreamers from soaring too close to the sun. And the realists? Well without the dreamers, they might not ever get off the ground"

Dark curls fell down toward her shoulders, she always clutched a different piece of paper ever ride. Quinn held onto the cold metal bar on the subway, finding the same woman sitting in the same seat every Tuesday and Thursday. Every afternoon after her classes on the fourth stop she would run into the train out of breath.

And Quinn would stand.

She would watch the woman every Tuesday and Thursday without acknowledging it, her eyes would fall onto her like a magnet, her grip tightening every fourth stop anticipating her arrival.

Her eyes held more than could be described, but also possessed an empty cavern, an unlit wick. Quinn couldn't control her wondering stare to catch those darken eyes, wishing somehow one day she would see them lit.

/

An annoying beeping noise filtered into the room, Quinn's eyes blinking awake. Light was lazily creeping in the bedroom, the smell of stale sleep floating in the air. The blonde stiffened a groan, a weight pressed up behind her, warmth radiating from it, wrapping Quinn in a comforting blanket.

"Ugh shut that thing the fuck up," the familiar husky voice croaked. Detaching herself from Quinn and rolling to the other side of the bed, trying to escape the alarm.

The blonde, ripped the covers from her body, the cold air sticking to her soft skin. Stepping down onto the ground she was met with the familiar grey carpet. She ran a hand through her short mane of hair, looking back at the snoozing brunette. A small grin cracked at the side of her mouth as Santana let out soft snore, shaking her head she walked into the bathroom.

She showered, brushed her teeth, combed out her wet hair, put on make-up and finally flossed by the time she came back out greeted by the same scene. This time though, the sheets were tossed halfway down Santana's body, reliving her tanned naked back.

"Babe," Quinn muttered, coming up to the side of her and shaking her gently "Wake up."

The brunette groaned rolling onto her back, her eyes slits at the intruding light. She didn't even quirk a grin at the sight of her beautiful girlfriend, her annoyance bubbling "I don't want to go."

"You have to,"

"I came to New York to compose songs, not to wait tables."

"Well those tables will pay for you to be able to compose songs," Quinn chuckled, tucking a strand of messy hair away from her deep brown eyes "Come on you'll be late."

Finally Quinn helped her up, allowing her to let out a line of ungrateful swear words dragging her feet to the bathroom. Quinn ambled out of their bedroom into their small apartment, reaching for the coffee maker in their kitchen, pulling out two cereal boxes and bowls along with. She heard the shower running as she poured herself a cup of hot caffeine into her favorite snoopy mug. She also reached for the "Kiss" mug setting it down across from her on the table.

She paced over to the mail slot on their door, grabbing the daily newspaper bringing it back to the table; grabbing a pair of black glasses on the way. She placed the glasses by the mug, unfolding the paper reading over an article. She poured her cereal and milk, taking a large spoonful of 'Life'.

Right on time she heard Santana stumbling into the room, seizing her mug filling it and falling into her seat. Quinn riffled through the paper separating the arts and sports, offering them to Santana as she dumped 'Lucky Charms' into her egg shell white bowl. She mumbled an acceptance taking the thin piece of paper and laying them out on her side. She clutched her glasses pushing them up her nose, skimming over the head line; she uncapped the milk pouring it into her bowl, only to stop abruptly.

"There is no more milk."

Quinn looked up, her spoon stuck in her mouth like a high dive into her wet breakfast. Santana sat with the empty container positioned over her bone dry cereal, her glasses pushed to one side. Quinn grabbed her spoon, pulling it out with soft smack of her lips, "oh."

Santana groaned, standing up with the bowl of cereal in hand. "I told you yesterday to pick up some."

"I forgot,"

"Obviously," she growled, dumping her cereal into the sink with resentment.

"If you are going to be like that just take mine," Quinn spat, pushing her bowl over.

"I don't want your food," Santana snapped. "-I have to go, I am going to be late as it is," She poured the remainder of her coffee into a travel mug, sealing the lid tightly. Santana left her paper scattered on the table reaching for her coat. "Pick some up after school yeah?"

"Okay."

Santana nodded, beginning to walk for the door snatching her keys as she passed. Quinn sat in dull silence, as the door clicked behind the Latina; whispers of anger bounding in her chest. Just as Quinn got up from her seat, walking to the sink and dumping both her coffee and cereal down the drain.

/

School was hectic as ever, Quinn attempting to take down as many important ideas as her professor said, trying to hang on to ever word. But half way through the class she felt her attention slowly slipping, her eyes traveling towards a blonde in the front of the class.

After her class she was off back onto the subway line, two earphones plugged in, shutting off the noisy crazies around her. The old recycled air felt heavy, the orders of different people wafting off in an undesirable outcome of stench. Quinn chewed on her mint gum just as a new song on her ipod started playing. Her eyes flickered up at a sudden movement.

A brunette with five bags was shuffling into the cart, trying to get to an empty seat before the cart started or someone else took it. Quinn recognized the woman right away, whenever Quinn got into a scheduled routine such as transporting back home after her class she was bound to stumble along a few familiar faces from time to time; even if she didn't know any of those familiar faces. In her mind this brunette had always suck out for Quinn. From across the aisle she watched as a young man sat down, shuffling through his phone. Quinn turned her music down slightly so she could barely hear the conversations around her.

"Excuse me," The girl started. "Could I maybe take that seat, you see I have been on my feet all day and have had to carry all these-"

"Fuck off," the boy muttered, turning his body away from the woman.

The brunette gasped raising a finger. "Now you listen, I-" she was cut off though as the cart kicked into gear, sending a jolt throughout the space. The woman did not prepare herself and as a consequence was left stumbling, letting out a terrified screech falling over her tote bags and onto the dirty subway floor. Quinn grimaced, the brunette letting out a loud 'humph' as she hit the ground.

There were a few sniffled chuckles; people covered their mouths as the woman pulled herself back up. She glanced around with her head held high. Quinn's eyes widened the clumsy woman having to readjust her hiked up skirt. Quinn caught sight of her face, even though she had fallen a sense of pride was still stitched on her face. After only few moments though there was a different raw emotion escaping in the corner of her eyes and lips. Something that the woman was desperately trying to push back, trying to hide for the subway people.

Puckering her lips, Quinn grabbed her bag, standing up from her seat and walking silently over to the girl, taping her on the shoulder. At the contact the brunette whipped around her eyes wide with shock. Quinn opened her mouth, her eyes locked onto the deep brown eyes in front of her. It seemed like the sound around her was drowned out, her hair on her neck suddenly standing up. "-Uh," Quinn mumbled, pointing back to her seat, "You can take mine."

The girl looked around Quinn, spotting the empty seat. Her face lifted, her eyes suddenly sprung with something resembling happiness. "Oh thank you so much," she breathed, picking up her bags.

"It's no problem," Quinn shrugged taking hold of the bar up ahead, the woman skidding around her to her previous seat. Quinn slightly turned her head, watching the brunette sit down with a sigh.

Quinn bit her lip, opening her phone to a new text. _From Santana: Don't forget the milk. _

Quinn rolled her eyes stuffing it back into her pocket. She chanced another glance at the woman, watching as she tapped at her phone. The blonde shook her head, trying to put her mind back onto focus.

/

You know how people go through those phases? Phases which they want to be something else then their usual boring self? Every person has it even if they don't realize it. Sometimes they last minutes, hours, days, years, and on the off chance you actually change. Quinn had a few of these phases in her life, whenever she read a poem she suddenly felt the need to become a poet, and would try for a few unsuccessful days before giving up. Or once when she decided she wanted to become a marathon runner and started to build up her stamina. That lasted a whole two weeks, before she gave up and ate a whole bag of pretzels in one sitting.

Some people in her family would argue her current situation was just that a phase. Living with a girl, sleeping with her, it was merely a phase in which Quinn had to work through, just like she did with each other phase. She obviously knew it was nothing like a phase, if it was she would have been done with Santana a long time ago. So clearly it wasn't.

But sometimes when Quinn walked around this concrete city she wondered if this part of her life was somehow supposed to be different, if she settled for a phase other than where she should actually be.

Quinn had come to grasps with the fact that everything in life was a game of chance and luck. If you take a moment to think about it, it will really baffle the mind. To think if you would have stayed home one night you wouldn't have spotted you next boyfriend or girlfriend, or that if you been in a different mood you wouldn't have meet your best friend. Everything in person's life is only timing, but what happens when you miss timing? What would happen if you were supposed to be somewhere but you decided to stay home and watch re-runs of Seinfeld?

It wasn't that Quinn didn't love or that she wasn't content with Santana, she did and was. She was happier with the Latina then she has ever been. Santana picked Quinn up after one of her darkest moments in high school. But Quinn could never get rid of the idea of something else was out there, something that her heart and soul were pushing for. When these thoughts got into her mind an instant guilt over took her. Maybe she couldn't blame herself for such ideas; after all she did read a lot of fantasy books.

Quinn zoomed back to the red cover of the latest instalment of one of her favorite authors. She stood in the small bookstore, she often lurked days after school. Santana didn't get off work till later and she never liked being home alone, it was so dark, so _silent_. Here on the other hand had action, people, smells, light, and sounds. Quinn felt an ever presences of comfortable calmness in the store, and gravitated to it ever since.

"Quinn," The clerk greeted her, walking out from the back room into the store.

"Hi Kevin,"

The blonde, strolled back over to the counter, readjusting the strap on her shoulder, dropping the book on the counter.

"Good choice," Kevin examined, grinning brightly scanning the books code.

"You've read it?" Quinn asked, unzipping her bag to retrieve her wallet.

"Oh yes," he nodded, getting a bag for Quinn, "it's about multiple love stories centered around one couple."

"I read the back, but didn't quite understand…" She admitted handing over a twenty.

"It plays with concept of soul mates, about how these two people always meet in a different way, take a different journey but always seem to end up together. In whatever alternate universe they may be in."

"Like destiny,"

"Proofing destiny,"

She bit her tongue lightly, getting her change back and the book in return.

"sounds good,"

"I hope you enjoy it, I always find her work enlightening."

Quinn checked the time, grimacing a little "you wouldn't know of the closest grocery store would you?"

/

She entered the store, bypassing the carts and baskets, knowing that she would only have to get milk and leave. Walking over to the far side of the store she entered the dairy section. "I want to hold your hand" by the Beatles was softly playing in the rather peaceful grocery store. Quinn parted her lips, reaching the different fridges of milk.

Why were there so many different kinds? What did Santana usually like in her cereal, 1 or 2 %? Quinn felt ridiculous contemplating something as mundane as her milk future; which could also factor into if she was getting any, but that was beside the point. Sighing she sang under her breath the chorus of the song, opening the door and grabbing the 1%.

She was about to turn around when she heard a person joining in with her singing. She stopped looking up, to her great surprise she found the same woman from the subway standing to the side, grabbing a container of vanilla skim milk. The girl seemed to look like she was caught in the act, her eyes widening a little in shock. "Oh!" she still had the bags that she had on the subway but they now were all placed in a trolley.

Quinn coughed, looking around from some camera. This had to be a reality show like the one Santana always watched, what was it called, "What would you do?" who ran into a stranger twice in one day? that never happened. And if it did you always ran into the asshole that stole your seat on the train, or spilt some of their coffee on your new coat.

"You're…" the brunette trailed off, her finger pointing at the blonde. She straggled off, trying to decide if she was completely sure this was the same person who had offered her seat, trying to avoid an awkward situation.

"I met you on the subway," Quinn offered.

"Yeah you lent me your seat, after the awful boy took mine,"

Quinn nodded, "Right."

"Thank you again," she smiled, "Where are my manners, I'm Rachel." She stuck her hand out.

Quinn thought handshakes only happened at old family dinners and job meetings, but she shook her hand without protest, smiling politely, "Quinn."

"Do you live around here?" Rachel asked, "I thought I would have recognized you…"

"No, I was just stopping by the book store down the block, and had to pick up this milk quickly," Quinn shook the milk in the air, gesturing to it nervously.

"Oh."

"That is I am a little worried, I can't remember if my girlfriend likes 1 or 2 %" She frowned down at the opposing object that seemed to hold so much power.

After moving to New York both Quinn and Santana learned that in a city like this they didn't have to hide anymore. Sure there was the odd asshole, but on the whole, people never seemed to care.

"Hm, well I don't know if I would be much help, I don't drink milk." She shrugged, holding her skim milk, "Even as much as my girlfriend protest about it," Quinn's ears perked a little at the mention of the woman also in a relationship with a girl.

"It's healthier," Quinn shrugged, "I'm not actually too opposed to it."

Rachel beamed flashing the carton back up, "Why don't you try it," She asked playfully wiggling it back and forth almost like a dance.

"I don't know the Miss's might not be too happy."

"Has she ever tried it?"

"Santana? trying skim milk, that's a laugh." Quinn chuckled.

"Then how is she supposed to know she doesn't like it if she never tried it," Rachel grinned.

"With an argument like that it is hard to object."

"This could be your new thing for today,"

"What do you mean?" Quinn inquired

"You know how they say you are supposed to do something new every day? Well getting skim milk could be yours today."

"That seems pretty lame," Quinn snickered "Why can't my new thing be saving a kid or something?"

"Have you saved a kid today?"

"Well no,"

"-Anyways skim milk isn't lame; it's nutritional and better for the environment."

Quinn puckered her lip, arching a brow looking back at the containers of milk, reaching in and replacing it. She then picked the skim milk, looking down at it.

"That's it my day is made, I have converted another," Rachel beamed.

"You make it sound like a cult," Quinn snickered,

"Oh it is," Rachel said seriously, "Once you get a taste of this you won't be able to go back to anything else."

Quinn laughed, "We'll see about that."

"Not to be rude, but I really need to go, have to go pick my girl up." Rachel motioned behind her shoulder, "But thank you again for the subway,"

"It was no problem, thank you for the milk choice."

"I hope you approve." She smiled her eyes brightening up, "Bye,"

"Bye,"

Quinn's eyes lingered on Rachel until she turned the corner disappearing from eyesight. When did that ever happen, meeting someone twice in the same day in a city of eight million?

What are the chances?

/

"Quinn?" A voice called from the living room.

"Yep." She entered with a rustle dropping her bag and bringing the skim milk into the kitchen placing it into the fridge. After finishing up she walked into the living room where Santana's voice had first appeared.

She smiled, Santana was lying on the sofa already in sweats, "I guess going out is out the question," she laughed, unwrapping the scarf around her neck.

Santana pouted, pausing the movie she was watching, looking up at her girlfriend, "I had a long day."

Quinn dropped to Santana's side, pushing her fingers through the darker girl's hair, "why what happened?"

"It was the hulk again,"

"Finn?" Quinn asked, recalling the numerous stories that Santana had brought home about a supposedly giant boy who couldn't shut his mouth from sprouting all his idiotic thoughts that filtered through his mind on a daily basis.

"Yeah," Santana nodded, tucking her head into Quinn's lap.

"He is gone now," Quinn smiled.

"Yes he is," Santana breathed, craning her neck to place a delicate kiss on the blondes lips, "how was your day?"

"Good… interesting,"

"Mmm," Santana smiled, cupping Quinn neck bringing her back down to her lips. Eventually causing Quinn's breath to come out a little more forced, "I'm glad you're home,"

"Me too," Quinn leant back down, capturing Santana's lips in a long kiss, climbing onto the sofa. She pulled away letting Santana's head fall onto the cushion before straddling her hips. She lent down catching the ruby lips with more passion and hunger. Santana pushed away the dangling imposing blonde hair. Letting out a content hum as Quinn pulled at her bottom lip letting her tongue drag on it before letting it go with a pop.

Quinn took a deep breathe in; taking in the familiar smell she had come accustomed to ever since freshmen year. Before the earthy smell represented friendship, and comfort how it changed through the years… turning into envy, lust, passion, and then returning to comfort and partnership.

Quinn lent back, examining Santana's growing flushed skin. She quirked her lips, watching Santana's lidded eyes take her looming girlfriend in. Quinn shifted, returning to the plump lips when she felt a finger stop her. Quinn growled opening her eyes, finding Santana smirking, "Before I forget, did you get the milk?"

Quinn sighed, returning to her sitting position over Santana. She puckered her lips, looking over the tanned girl, "Yeah…" Santana's face brightened her hand rubbing up Quinn's arm to the back of her neck, pulling her back. "…I got some vanilla skim milk," Quinn finished inches away from her lips.

Santana's breath stalled, pushing Quinn back up yet again. Quinn let out a frustrated sigh, "now what?" she asked irritated. Santana's mood shifted a bit at Quinn's tone, her eyes narrowing.

"Skim milk?" she asked calmly, though something about Santana speaking calmly always freaked Quinn out a bit, especially when she knew she wasn't happy.

"Yeah,"

"I hate skim milk."

"Have you even tried it?" Quinn frowned,

"No,"

"-then how do you know you don't like it?"

"Have you ever had lambs eye?"

"No," Quinn groaned.

"Maybe you should try it," Santana snapped, pushing Quinn off of her lap, and sitting up.

"That's not the same," Quinn slid to Santana's side, watching as the Latina got up, pushing her hand through her hair, letting out a deep sigh.

"Why would you get skim milk?"

"This woman was talking about it,"

"How old was she?" Santana asked out of the blue.

"What?" Quinn shook her head, "I don't know around the same age as us, why does it matter?"

"Was she attractive?"

"I guess,"

"Real typical," Santana rolled her eyes, "A pretty girl bats her eyes and you do whatever she says!"

"That's ridiculous and you know it!" Quinn sprung from the sofa, standing over Santana.

"Was it ridiculous when we were in Las Vegas and you spent sixty dollars on that scam the lady was selling?"

"Here we go again with the scam," Quinn thundered, throwing her hands in the air.

"I just don't understand you sometimes Quinn, I asked one little favour which you should have done before, and you go on and get distracted by some good looking girl. Am I not satisfying you or something?"

"What!" Quinn snapped, "What are you talking about, this is about milk not whatever you are saying," Quinn gestured with her hands, "Why are you acting so weird lately… you're different."

There was a slow and eerie silence between the girls, each trying to measure the other. Trying to think about what the other may say, or do, but nothing happened and somehow that was worse than any words. Santana pursed her lips glaring at the taller girl.

"Just get the fucking milk Quinn," Santana grunted, pushing past the girl towards their bedroom.

Quinn waited until the brunette shut the door before kicking the sofa roughly, hurting her big toe. She cursed, stumbling back to the door, pulling on her jacket and wrenching her keys from the table. After she got out into the hallway of the apartment she yanked at her jacket, zipping it up.

How could something as innocent and simple as milk get Quinn into the dog house? That's what was happening lately with Quinn and Santana well not lately they had always fought. But at least in high school it was real fights with hurtful words cussing and swearing, and once even hair pulling. And what was better than the actual fight was the mind blowing incredible make-up sex after. Honestly people on movies and TV shows weren't lying about that, it is unbelievably. You still have so much passion about the fight and it transfers right over to sex effortlessly.

Even if Quinn came back with a whole bag of different percent, flavours of milk and apologise all she would get was a small peck before lying down to sleep. Not to say Quinn and Santana never had sex anymore; they did, but lately it was lacking. Maybe Santana wasn't so far off to think she wasn't satisfying her, or some other word that didn't sound so ridiculous. It probably wasn't even Santana's fault. Quinn has known for weeks that there was something that wasn't wired correctly. Who knew all it took was a pointless fight about milk to bring so much out of Quinn and Santana. But as it is Quinn would be sleeping on the sofa, with only a cold bottle of milk to warm her.

"Fucking milk."

* * *

A.N: Please let me know what you think,

this story will be evenly be split up between Brittana and Faberry.


	2. Due Date

Chapter Two

Due Date

* * *

There were many places in the world where Brittany didn't fit in. Even if most looked at her as a girl that could go anywhere with anyone and fit in, that wasn't how she felt. Take Rachel's friends for example she always felt a little edgy around them. One time when she tried to explain this to Rachel she couldn't understand what Brittany was talking about, assuring her that they loved her-therefore she had nothing to worry about. But Brittany saw the way some of them looked at her like she was somehow a little less than them, that she was providing less to society by waving her hands around and moving her feet. That in some way they thought her movements weren't any better than what they could produce on stage so why was she so special?

Her dad would tell her she was over thinking it, that really it didn't matter what others thought. But obviously it mattered if it didn't, people wouldn't stress over what they looked like every day. She couldn't count the number of times Rachel would come tearing through the house asking Brittany which shoe looked better; most times the blonde would just pick the one that looked more comfortable.

Brittany couldn't complain though, even if she didn't feel comfortable around Rachel's friends without them or at least that social circle she wouldn't have meet Rachel. Sure at first Brittany couldn't stand the girl, Brittany didn't hate anyone but the first few times talking to Rachel left her head spinning in circles. She even told Tina that she couldn't handle her constant talk. But on that Thursday night running back from the bar Brittany realised why Rachel talked so much, it was because she was afraid of the silence.

But there was a place where Brittany just elegantly and effortlessly fit. No one looked down at her; no one asked if she was lost, they knew she was home. Looking into the mirror Brittany spun on her toe, her hair catching into the air, spraying around like a golden crown. Stepping as if she floated, stepping on small clouds. Her hands rose with precision, flowing in the same pattern she practised before.

The wood beneath her seemed to push her feet up, assisting her in her leaps and bonds. The mirror in front reflected an image she almost couldn't recognise. Her hair spinning in front of her eyes obstructing her sight. She let the music fill her up like taking a large gulp before diving beneath water. The people that had been around her were now distant blurred images. It wasn't until she heard the beat slow down, did she allow her breathing to regulate, her last movement ending.

Brittany looked up, her bright ocean blue eyes flashing over the small sea of people. Some were clapping excitedly watching her; others stood talking to one another quietly. And some others practised on their own, headphones pushed into their ears. Brittany quirked a grin looking at the one who had clapped, walking over.

"That was great!" Mike exclaimed. "The routine looks so much better than it did last time."

"Thanks," Brittany smiled, taking a sip from her water, letting some wash over her face.

Mike's eyes glanced over the blondes shoulder, his eyes flickering back "She's been watching."

Brittany looked behind her shoulder, grinning instantly at Rachel's leaning form at the door way "She's not allowed to be here," she laughed.

"Do you think Rachel is one to listen to those rules?" Mike asked seriously. "That girl lives by her own rules."

Brittany shook her head, pulling her backpack over her shoulder, "You think I would have realised this by now."

Mike snickered crossing her arms, "Are you two still coming for drinks later?"

Brittany nodded, clutching her water bottle taking another swig, "We'll be around eight, is that alright?"

Mike nodded adjusting his sneakers, preparing for his next routine; Brittany looked back at Rachel, the smaller brunette giving a tentative wave. "I'll see you tonight."

"Bye,"

Brittany skipped over to the door, the smaller girl pushing off the frame to greet her. Rachel placed her hand Brittany's waist pulling her in, "Sorry."

"Why?" Brittany tilted her head.

"I'm always breaking your rules," Rachel smiled softly.

Brittany grinned, her cheeks bunching up, "I can think of a few things you could do to make it up to me." She whispered bending over to brush her lips on the girl's ear.

Rachel laughed gently pushing her playfully away, "are you off?"

"I could be if you make it worth my wild," She smirked, toying with the hem of Rachel's shirt.

Rachel shook her head, biting her lower lip, "I have to go to school, I have a test next Tuesday in my theater production class and I need to get some books to study from."

Brittany grimaced, letting go of Rachel's shirt leaning back over on the frame of the entrance, "You can still come to Mike's and Tina's though right?"

"I hope, it depends on how far I get," Rachel frowned. "I'll let you know before six."

"Alright,"

"I just wanted to come stop by and see how it was going," Rachel stated. "I can let you get back to practising without any future distractions."

"I need to go soon anyways, it's just open studio and I need to work on my dance history paper."

Rachel let her hand drop to her side, tucking her hair behind one ear. "I'll talk to you later." She looked slightly nervous, her right foot softly poking Brittany's foot.

"See you." Brittany chuckled leaning down to peak her lips. Rachel smiled one last time, waving before turning around and walking from the building.

/

It was raining.

It was a pure accident when Brittany and Rachel ran into each other late one night; a coincidence that seemed to remove Brittany's previous notions on the girl. It was like any other night, Brittany had just left the bar leaving Tina and Mike who were stumbling back home. She ambled along the sidewalks, avoiding dark oily puddles and trying to dodge the splattering droplets with little success. The water slowly filled her shoes, acting like small containers for the water rather than keeping her feet dry. The lights from ahead illuminated the water descending to the earth, falling with such grace that Brittany paused at one point, watching in wonder. Car engines and sirens were slightly muffled by the thunderous storm.

People around the blonde ran as if they had entered a race, rain did that to people Brittany thought. She never understood why, it wasn't as if people would be angry if you showed up wet from the rain, it wasn't your fault that mother nature decided to cry. Brittany could care less of her soaking jacket knowing she could just as easily dry it when she got home. Plus there was something about the rain that made Brittany happier, when most others had the opposite effect. Maybe it was because she was raised in Seattle which was notorious for rain. But more than that Rain brought something else, it was the breath of many plants, and a new freshness to the usual polluted air of New York, it brought back a little home for Brittany.

Because Brittany wasn't sprinting she spotted the darker silhouette siting underneath the canopy of a small diner. She had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, scowling at the drowning earth muttering with irritation. Growing nearer Brittany recognized the delegate face, with harsh edges. "Rachel?" her voice swam through the water reaching Rachel.

The brunette looked up slightly surprised, "Brittany."

The dancer tilted her head, striding underneath the canopy, looking down at the shorter girl, "Are you talking to yourself?"

Rachel looked slightly embarrassed, kicking a loose leaf. "Maybe a little,"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Brittany chuckled, stuffing her hands into her pockets in her soaking jeans.

Rachel sucked her lips into her mouth, shrugging. "You're wet," she acknowledged overly simple.

Brittany scrunched up her nose looking down at her cranberry colored jacket, shrugging, "I don't mind getting wet."

Rachel's lip slightly twitched, into what Brittany had presumed would have been a smile, "Why are you sad?"

"What?" the brunette responded startled.

"You must be sad, you're not talking like you usually do," Brittany pointed out. "You usually talk like a hundred words per second."

"I don't always," Rachel whispered sourly.

Brittany pushed away her wet hair from her face, small streams of water sliding down and off the tips. She pursed her lips, looking around at the busy nightlife, "It's not a bad thing, everyone has different traits." Brittany mussed, "I for example bit my nails, Tina always tells me it's a bad habit, but what if a woman wants a little lady loving? Longer nails are never usually welcomed."

Rachel finally let a chuckle escape her lips, "Tina told me you didn't like my talking," She admitted shyly.

Brittany felt a sudden pain of remorse deep in her gut, she never intended for Rachel to hear one of her pointless drunken rambles to her friend. Thinking about it now Brittany realised she had only said those things because she had seen the brunette disappear with one of the stage crew workers halfway during the party. In the past four months Brittany had slowly devolved an attraction to the girl, anyone with eyes could see the girl was stunning and to top it all off had a divine gift. Sure the first meeting with the girl Brittany felt slightly irritated with her constantly moving mouth, but that was only because sometimes she couldn't quite keep up. But she never _didn't_ like it.

Brittany licked her top lip, her blue eyes looking down with guilt, "I didn't mean that."

"It's fine, people tell me all the time it is one of my worst traits," Rachel shrugged.

Brittany slapped her palm over her forehead, rubbing her skin slightly, "no look I was just jealous and thought that talking like that to Tina would somehow make me feel better."

"Jealous?"

Brittany sighed, dropping both hands limply by her sides, looking smaller somehow then the tinier singer. "I saw you leave with that red head girl… the attractive one, well… I guess I just wished it would have been me that you left with." She finally admitted looking to the ground.

The silence that followed made Brittany's skin itch, she usually enjoyed the quiet but right now it seemed inappropriate. Looking back up slowly Brittany found Rachel with a large grin her eyes sparkling with something new. "Oh," Rachel finally said around a smile she seemed unable to contain.

Brittany frowned, her eyebrows creasing together, "What?"

Brittany liked jokes, telling them and hearing them, but she knew for sure whatever she just said was not a joke. So she couldn't begin to grasp why Rachel had suddenly bent in laughter her face growing with such painful amusement. Brittany's gut slowly sank, watching the girl laughing as if it were the funniest thing she ever heard. Brittany had been laughed at, during her high school years it was something she had come accustomed on a daily bases, but something about the tone of her giggles made Brittany believe she wasn't laughing at her. Curiously Brittany looked around, expecting to find a stand-up comedian behind her telling Rachel jokes. But no such thing was in sight, the cars still rolled by the casual pass byers walking by, everything was very boringly ordinary.

"What is it?" Brittany flinched on edge. Rachel softened to a light giggle, her eyes looking up at Brittany.

"It's nothing," She shook her head, taking a step forward toward Brittany. "It's just…" Rachel whispered, and suddenly she was no longer laughing, no humor had even left a trail on her features. Rachel took another small step closing any personal space the blonde had before. Brittany sucked in a deep breath looking down at the girl as she tilted her chin up.

It seemed to happen slowly, Rachel's hand coming up to rest behind her neck pulling her down. Rachel lifted onto her tiptoes, taking the position of a striving ballerina. Brittany wrapped her arm around the waist of the brunette swiping her tongue of her bottom lip. Rachel's breathe tickled her lower lip before their lips came in contact. Brittany sighed into the kiss tilting her head to a better angle. Small scattered butterflies flew in Brittany's stomach.

They stood there, the patter of the rain blurring back in a distant whining of white noise. Brittany only concentrated on the intakes of Rachel's breaths, a small whimper escaping when Brittany traced her tongue along her lip. Finally after what seemed to be hours Brittany separated from Rachel's soft lips with a silent smack.

"…that girl was a friend, a very painfully straight friend." Rachel finally finished.

"O-oh."

"And I asked Tina early today what you thought of me because I like you, she told me you thought I talked too much."

"Oh,"

"So you see it's pretty funny."

"Oh,"

"I'm going to kiss you again."

"Oh."

/

Brittany opened the same Diner she had kissed Rachel that first time, entering the small but comfortable atmosphere. She hadn't been back here since that day. Looking back now she couldn't understand why. She looked around, noticing that most people were casually eating small plates of food, some working on their phones. Brittany strolled to an empty seat settling in. She usually liked working in a Starbucks or the school library. But on the way there she noticed this very familiar landmark in her personal history. She didn't understand why, but she felt a pull towards it.

She placed her silver laptop on the table bringing out sheets of paper which she had already worked on. She shuffled them a bit so it was in a somewhat pleasing arrangement. She clutched her black pen toying with it before laying it onto the surface of the paper. It didn't take long until Brittany was fully emerged into her studies, looking up the origins of dance, the different types of dance and when each style was born and where it was created. Her eyes seemed to be glued onto the screen, unknowing if anything around her surroundings anymore, teleporting into her small bubble.

She was isolated until a raspy voice broke though, "Miss?" Brittany blinked a couple of times, looking up at the dark women standing over her table, a note pad in hand. Her eyes were narrowed slightly in annoyance. Brittany looked from her computer to the dark women, examining her silently.

"…Miss?" she repeated herself, her husky voice coming out again.

"I'm sorry what?" Brittany acknowledged.

The waiter puckered her lips, looking back at her notepad. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"A cup of coffee would be great, and uhm…" Brittany glanced at the forgotten menu at the edge of the table, looking over the list, "A plate of pancakes,"

"Those are in our breakfast menu miss,"

"Yeah,"

"Breakfast hours are over," she clarified.

"Oh!" Brittan flipped to the second page, "I'll get the chicken nuggets then," she reported.

The waiter wrote down her order, picking up her menu and pinching it between the side of her body and arm.

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No that's fine, thank you," Brittany smiled.

"I'll be right back with your coffee. My name is Santana just let me know if you need anything."

Brittany nodded her head watching her retreating form before looking back at her screen. Her fingers paused on her key board, her mind clouded. She bit her tongue, resuming her frantic speed of typing down notes, adding onto her first two paragraphs.

Brittany picked up the white mug that her waitress must have placed without her noticing. She took a large sip of the bitter black liquid, her eyes never leaving her screen. She had finished her cup when her hands finally seized movement on her keys, unable to will her fingers move. Her brain felt worn out, not being able to come with any coherent thoughts about dance that she could put down on her word document.

She groaned realising she still had two more pages and no way of getting there. She fell into her arms burying her head into her crossed arms on her laptop. She breathed deeply trying to come up with anything. When she graduated high school getting a full scholarship for dance she thought she wold never have to be in her position that she was in right now. Who knew that being in dance classes also met that you had to research old dance movements and wright an essay on the historic facts of it.

A steam of caffeine swam into her sense, squinting up to find the waiter refilling her mug, grinning at Brittany.

"Hard work?" she asked

"Yeah you could say that."

Brittany sighed, pushing off the table, to sit straight back in her chair. The women placed her right hand on her hip, lifting an eyebrow. "School?"

"I go to Julliard." Brittany confirmed,

"Wow," The waiter breathed impressed, "Good school."

"Most say that," Brittany groaned.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, I'll be back with you chicken nuggets soon."

Brittany nodded looking at the flickering screen with silent hatred. Luckily the buzz of her phone distracted her from her incomplete work.

"Hello?" She answered quickly. Glad to have an escape route from her endless essay.

"Hey," She recognized Rachel's voice instantly smiling softly. "So I actually won't be out of here till a lot later then I originally thought," Rachel sighed sadly.

"I thought we were going to be able to go to Tina's,"

"I know you wanted to go, but I'm not even close to being done." Rachel regrettably informed, "I'm sorry."

Brittany hummed, scratching at the wooden table. "I guess I'll see you when you get back…"

"Actually I think I'm going back to my apartment,"

"You are?"

"I'm really tired I just need some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow though," Rachel explained.

"I feel like I don't even have a girlfriend anymore…" Brittany whispered,

The phone went silent.

Brittany pulled her phone from her ear looking to see if the phone call had been cut off. But she saw the call minutes slowly ticking up Rachel's profile picture still smiling at her.

After what seemed like forever Rachel replied "I'll see you tomorrow, I promise."

"Yeah I guess."

There as a long pause between the girls, the phone line buzzing. "I should go." Rachel finally interrupted.

"Okay,"

"Bye."

Hanging up her phone Brittany threw it back into her bag. She dropped her head into her hands, a draft from the open door blowing her hair slightly. Brittany heard a muttering of words from across the room feet scampering across the tiled floor. She couldn't place all the words but she heard a sketched out version of a nearby conversation. "Is she okay?" "Let me take the food she looks desperate." There was a violent grunt and whine before Brittany heard the approaching slap of footsteps. "Ass," a voice muttered under her breath.

Brittany smelt the food being placed down in front of her, the heat pushing off in slow waves.

"Here you go," Santana stated.

Brittany pushed of her palms looking at the steaming plate of chicken, "thanks," She murmured.

Santana stood by her table still, Brittany looked up finding deep brown eyes shifting around the room, her lip tucked into her mouth. She opened mouth her lip popping, "A-are you…" She started her words freezing within her throat when her eyes connecting with Brittany's "… Are you alright?" She finally managed.

Brittany was startled he eyes widening a bit. She could tell the darker woman was slightly uncomfortable shifting her weight side to side. "I-I'm yeah…I'll be fine."

Santana nodded looking at the ground, her feet still glued onto the floor. She scratched the back of her head raising her opposite arm pointing at her computer "Is it your work?" She asked, looking for an excused to not feel guilty for leaving the blonde.

Brittany looked back at her laptop, her eyes scanning over the material, "Yeah, I have this paper and can't seem to put thoughts into words."

Santana nodded again, seeming content with her answer. Brittany waited amused that Santana still stood on spot, seeming to be resisting some urge to talk further. Brittany quirked a grin, watching the struggling girl with slight amusement, why was she still here? Brittany held her gaze, trying not to giggle at the school girl look of her waiter.

"What's it on?" She finally managed

"The history of dance," Brittany explained, "I major in dance at Juilliard."

"Oh." Santana whispered, nodding. She looked at Brittany for one last moment before turning abruptly, speed walking away.

The blonde chuckled, not being able to place why the young woman had acted so strangely, when just a few minutes ago she was fine. Brittany tried to forget about the strange behavior savoring the chicken nuggets in front of her trying to distract herself about Rachel's absence.

Brittany watched the slow moving dinner in her time eating her meal. She spotted a large tree like man walking around with drinks hungry eyes meeting hers. She shuttered pulling up her upper lip in confusion. She was not a stranger to the look the tall brunette was throwing her, but at this point she really didn't have the energy to deal with a horny guy. She finished her plate, and polishing off her fries. She didn't realize just how hungry she was until she started eating; it's always the first bite that ignites something in your belly.

A human would never be satisfied with just getting a taste of something good, they always found a way to get the rest.

Santana came back wordlessly picking up her plate and taking it away, not even acknowledging her. Brittany could not put any type of conclusion on the girl. Brittany was well known for being a good judge of character and being able to understand people but her waiter was confusing her to no end.

Brittany watched the waiter for a couple of wordless minutes as she retreated into the back. She stood up gathering her things, leaving enough money one the table for the meal and drink. Walking out of the door she looked behind her shoulder finding Santana perched by her table, her eyes glued onto Brittany's figure behind the glass door. Brittany held her gaze for only a moment before turning around heading for her empty apartment.

/

Days passed quietly, and before Brittany new it a whole week had passed and the due date on her essay was quickly approaching. Rachel stood from Brittany's sofa, grumbling to herself. The blonde looked up from her small round table, her hair piled on top of her head. The room smelt like old popcorn, and was humid from the just used shower.

"Do you want to go to my place?" Rachel asked, shuffling through her purse pulling her chap stick pulling it cross her lower lip.

Brittany looked up, lifting her eyebrows, "What?"

Rachel puckered her lips, sliding her bottom lip against her top, "uh, do you want to go to my place."

"But we are already here?" she replied confused.

Rachel sighed, "Yeah but I want to get out."

Brittany lent back in her chair, the wooden back speaking caused by her weight. "You want to go out to go into another home?"

Rachel looked around the tiny apartment, her toes wiggling in her he plush white rug. "I just thought it would be helpful to have a change in scenery."

"I'm almost done, I just need to finish one last page." Brittany looked back to the screen, ignoring Rachel's reasoning.

"Well I want to go, I'm not having fun listening to the 'tap, tap, tap' of your key board." Rachel fumed.

Brittany flinched back, willing herself not to look up, not to give into the diva's wishes. She was tired of having to bend for her. Over the past week all Rachel had done was camp out in her apartment, making Brittany spend most nights there. It was no secret that the Brunette didn't like her girlfriend's apartment. It wasn't clean enough for her taste and the random colourful decorations were a sore on the eyes. One time Rachel had even tried to take down on of Brittany's decorative scarfs she had pinned to the wall.

"Go then,"

The words sunk like a thunder cloud in the room. It's not like the two never had fights. They just never really resolved them. They let the annoyance linger in their memory, choosing to ignore it. Brittany didn't like fighting, but right now Rachel was being unreasonable.

Rachel was taken aback by Brittany's response her eyes widening, she opened and closed her mouth a few times before stepping up to bate. She grabbed her jacket threading her arms through the sleeves, "fine, I'll talk to you later."

The blonde clenched her jaw, Rachel picking up her keys and purse, striding to the door her head held high. Brittany waited until Rachel shut the door behind her before she looked up her eyes crinkling with annoyance. She sat in the still apartment for minutes. Her mind swimming with the memory of the past week, causing her emotions to raise a level.

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, slamming her computer shut with a loud snap, picking up her notes stuffing it into a small backpack. She shook her head the entire time, heat rising into her face as she careful placed her computer into the pack. "I need to get out of here." She muttered to herself, hypocritically moving towards the door.

It didn't take long until Brittany found herself sitting in the same diner from a week before. Her computer pulled out in a similar fashion. She stared at the screen, her mind nowhere near her actual work but rather thinking of what Rachel was doing right now. Sitting at home watching TV? Maybe she had called Puck over, Brittany cursed under her breath trying to shake such thoughts from her head.

"Hey there again," a slightly familiar voce said to the side of her table. Brittany looked up finding the same waiter standing to her side, smiling softy.

Brittany brined weakly, "hey."

"What can I get you today to drink?" Santana asked,

"Just a coffee please,"

"Coming right up."

Brittany took her phone out, looking at the screen, there were no missed calls and no new text. She frowned shutting it off and stuffing it back into her pocket, without regret. She tried to find something that she could write down on her computer but she could only think of things she wanted to say to Rachel.

She looked over to where the kitchen was slightly visible, Santana poring coffee into a white mug, talking to a dark boy who was also working at the time. A taller man walked over, Santana almost instantaneously slipping away, back to Brittany placing the mug onto the table.

"Are you ready to order?"

"I'll get the chicken nuggets again."

Santana smirked softy, writing it down on a small slip of paper, "You don't change too much do you?"

"Not in a week,"

"I'll be right back with your food."

Brittany followed her movements back to where she handed the paper over the cook. This time Brittany's table was positioned closer to the kitchen. Allowing her to be closer to where all the waiters seemed to congregate. She pushed in her head phones into the aux output, but didn't start up any music.

"What's her name?" A deep voice said from behind her. Brittany craned her neck, she knew eavesdropping was bad but she couldn't help herself her natural curiosity was taking over.

"I don't know."

"She's really hot,"

"Don't even think about it blubber boy," Santana spat "She's not interested."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me she doesn't play for your team."

"Like you can tell,"

"I can." Santana snapped, "I have awesome gaydar."

"You know Santana there is a difference between gaydar and wishing girls were gay."

"I'm in a relationship, remember? I could care less. Ass."

"Then why do you keep stealing her table from her?" the boy whined, "I told you I wanted to serve her the next time she was in. It's like you couldn't jump quick enough to her."

"I was protecting her from an idiot like you," she growled "And like I said, she's. not. interested."

"I bet I could make her interested,"

"You dumb ass, I heard her talking to her girlfriend last time she was in here."

"Her what?"

"Girlfriend."

"Maybe it was just one of her friends…"

"Just shut up before someone takes you seriously."

The man tried to say something back but caught Brittany's peering eyes, his jaw slaking before her turned away quickly picking up a few menus placing them on a nearby table. Santana let out a frustrated sigh her back still facing Brittany. She pushed her fingers through her dark hair, her back tensed.

Brittany's head slightly tilted to the left as she studied the girl in depth for the first time. She always knew she was beautiful but it never really stuck out just how gorgeous the young woman was. Even with her hair pilled messily into a bun, the black apron not screaming anything fashionable, she looked like a super model in the wings. As if this would be the new hot fall item for Gucci. Brittany pursed her lips as the woman picked up a tray full of drinks, carrying it over to a table were a young family sat.

Brittany sat there for a while, shyly watching her waitress. She knew maybe it wasn't normal to be such in a trance but she honestly couldn't help herself. Sometimes she would try to pull away, look out the window for about a minute before finding her eyes drifting back to the dark woman. It was awhile before Santana notice her obvious spectator. She stood by the kitchen, her eyes flickering back and forth from Brittany to the tray. After about the fifth glance Santana eyes stuck on Brittany. Even from across the diner Brittany felt like she was at the side of the girl, her eyes unable to tare from the exchange even when she tried to. Brittany was hypnotized, her expression mirrored by Santana.

Brittany finally let out a sigh of relief when Santana got shook from another employee, handing her the tray of food she was supposed to give to a table. And just like that Brittany looked down avoiding contact with Santana.

It wasn't long till she had been given her nuggets with less than a word. Brittany ate her food, re-opening her computer looking across the screen. When Santana final took her plate away she started to type furiously at the keys hardly breaking for even a sip of her refilled mug.

Later she looked over her work scowling and then deleting it all. It was no good, none of it was usable.

"Still working on your report?" Santana asked holding a small slip of paper.

"Yeah," Brittany sighed. "Not very efficiently I can't think of anything else to write."

Santana pursed her lips, placing Brittany's bill onto the table, "I'm sure you will think of something."

Brittany paid for her meal, but still sat at the table, unable to move her eyes glued onto the bright screen. She wasn't sure if she was exactly aloud to stay, but with one last glance around she reasoned that it was slow enough that she wouldn't feel guilty for staying.

Brittany was caught onto the internet in no time, forgetting her assignment easily. It was not until much later did she hear the approaching footsteps. She looked up finding Santana with a coat hanging over one of her hands her work apron gone. She smiled glade to see the girl again.

"Hi," Brittany greeted.

Santana seemed to be having some type of inner battle within her head, looking down at the blonde, "I know some things about dance history." She stammered abruptly "I studied it for a while back in school" she added hesitantly.

Brittany blinked startled, watching as the nervous girl pinched the hem of her shirt. Brittany puckered her lips, gesturing over to the empty seat, "All information is needed by this point I think the local librarian knows me by name by now."

Santana looked hesitant sitting down, "So you have researched this pretty far…"

Brittany shrugged, positioning her computer so she could still see the other girl, "I have looked it up." She said modestly, "It's always good to hear information that I may have over looked or haven't seen yet though."

Santana clasped her hands together, "Well I mean I probably won't be that much of help…" she regrettably mumbled starting to push of the table's surface the chair scraping across the floor like nails on a chalk board.

Brittany raised a hand eyes wide, "no please stay."

Santana looked sheepishly at the table. Brittany noticed that the crowd that was in the diner before was now thinning out profusely, how late was it? Santana finally settled in, starting to ramble on about different historic dance movements. Brittany politely nodded, smiling bright at the girl. She couldn't break it to her that she already knew almost all of the information she as giving her. Santana's expression started to brighten as she gained confidence in her speech, relaxing back into her chair.

Brittany didn't realize exactly at what moment they started to talk about something else. No longer were they discussing the origins and historic figures in dance but talked about school, the future the past. Brittany was slight puzzled at the idea of having such a deep conversation with a stranger but the conversion felt easy like breathing. Nothing as forced nothing difficult, it was if they were two old friend out having coffee.

Brittany laughed with Santana, telling her embarrassing stories from her university, a routine gone wrong being pantsed in front of everyone. Brittany's face lit up at the sound of Santana's laughter her face scrunching up. Santana had opened her moth but was cut off by the ringing of Brittany's phone.

The blonde looked down at the bright screen Rachel's picture popping up. "I have to take this," she mumbled.

"Of course, I have been keeping you here, I should go." Santana blurted, before Brittany could protest Santana was up lifting her purse over her shoulder, "till next time Brittany."

Santana's form slowly walked from the diner closing the door behind her. Brittany's mouth hung gaped as she raised her phone to her ear.

"Hello?" she muttered, "…yeah…yeah I'll be right there. Yeah I'm sorry too"


	3. Right on Time

Chapter three

Right on Time

Santana was fourteen the first time she talked to her. A nervous defensive awkward fourteen year old. She was beautiful, she held effortless elegance, and eyes followed her where ever she went. Santana was hypnotized the first time she spotted her was while she walked into the doors of the school commanding it for her own.

It took her two months and numerous Cheerio's practises to finally work up enough nerve to talk to her. She was alone like her, but she unlike herself seemed comfortable in it. Santana had friends it was true, but no one who was really her friend, just fake teenagers desperate to be accepted. The first meeting was cold and measuring, both girls fighting for a leadership role in the squad. Even though Santana knew she should be her enemy- that she should be plotting to cut her down she found herself sucked in close to her.

An uneasy friendship was formed an understanding that at any moment one of them may break the other one down. But somewhere in the uneasy friendship a real one bloomed. Neither had expected it, but once it happened neither could think of any other way.

Santana had been right in the beginning Quinn commanded any room she was in easily. She quickly took over the squad in their sophomore year, bringing Santana with her as her right hand woman. It was also the same year that Santana underwent un-controlled loathing jealousy. Quinn went out to parties and dances with her new jock boyfriend, pressuring Santana to also get one for her own.

Santana watched in envy as he put his arms around her, kissed her, and touched her. Every time Santana shook off the feeling as loyalty, she didn't want to see her friend get hurt. She suffered through the entire sophomore year, ditching her idiotic boyfriend for movie nights with Quinn. She survived with tentative and nervous touches, stolen glances and breathless hugs.

It wasn't until junior year did she realise the obvious truth. Quinn sat at a senseless party, drink in had watching Santana with such intensity, that it chilled her to the bone. Around them boys chanted in approval, Quinn shoved her drink to the closest boy taking a few large steps toward her best friend. The Latina stood still unable to do anything but watch as she was stalked like prey. Quinn raised her hand cupping the side of her face before leaning toward the girl.

Santana was a goner.

She knew the moment her lips brushed up against Quinn's she would never be able to live without them. Her lips brushed past her upper lip before fully pressing against them. Santana let out a straggled moan into her lips, looping her hand around and into her straight blonde hair. And in that moment their entire worlds changed. Quinn finally let go of Santana's full lips her eyes lidded breath cut deep down in her throat. She couldn't believe she had just done that with Quinn and that she liked it so, so much. So much more then when she had done it with any boy. The moment of realisation hit her like a cold fish to the face. She ran to the first boy in distance pulling him up to a spare bedroom, making sure to stuff her hand down his pants as quickly as possible.

It was another four months before the girl's found themselves in a similar position except this time they were alone with no boys around. Santana lay flat on her back against Quinn's mattress after a difficult Cheerio's practise, rambling to Quinn about nonsense. The blonde dropped her gym bag sinking onto her bed shuffling up to the side of Santana. The Cheerio had a conflicted expression twisted in her features her radio buzzing out a stupid new top pop hit in the background. Santana paused, looking over at Quinn with curiosity.

"Something wrong?" she asked cautiously, knowing that whatever Quinn had on her mind could have serious consequences. There were only a few times that the blonde looked so conflicted and it usually involved her asking Santana to take care of one of the freshmen girls who had been slaking or speaking out. There were some things that even Quinn Fabray couldn't stomach- that's where Santana came in doing the real dirty work.

Quinn pursed her lips, letting out a shaky breath, pulling her hair from the confines of her pony tail. "Do you ever think about it?" She whispered her voice breaking.

Santana's words stuck in her throat, trying to read Quinn to the best of her ability. She had come accustomed to the different Quinn's. There was the Queen Quinn, happy Quinn, and sad Quinn. But when she looked at her friend now she saw someone totally different, she saw a shy meek Quinn, nervously biting her lip, playing with her fingers in her lap.

"Think of what?" Santana cooed softly.

"That night, us...we..." Quinn hashed out, unable to actually say the words.

_Kiss_.

They kissed. And it was possibly the best kiss either girl had ever had. That wasn't right, Santana wasn't supposed to have her best kiss with a girl, with _Quinn_. It was supposed to be with a tall strong man, it had to be that way.

Once Santana knew exactly what Quinn was going to say, she stood up trying to gain distance from her friend. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable about how close they were, her body heating up from the memory. "We were drunk. The boys were cheering us on." Santana confidently declared reaching Quinn's vanity inspecting her make-up making sure it wasn't smudged. "We only did it to get their attention."

Quinn looked nervously to her sheets pinching the white cotton in-between her fingers, swallowing loudly, "Are you sure?"

Santana turned back noticing the intense stare Quinn currently ensnared her in. she had recognized such eyes when Emily challenged her spot as head Cheerio last year, it was a glare that Quinn only held when she wanted something…bad. Santana let a shaky breath out, rubbing her palms on the pleated skirt, trying to whip away the sweat that had gathered on her palms.

She opened her mouth but for once Santana could not find any words to place in it. She could not find anything with Quinn starring at her like that, like she was the biggest present under the Christmas tree that she couldn't wait to unwrap.

Finally after sometime Santana was able to rearrange her brain, clearing her throat. "You know it's getting late, I need to get home."

Lie.

Santana couldn't stand another moment in this room. She reached for her Cheerio's bag hulling it over her shoulder, stomping over to the door. Twisting the door knob but suddenly freezing when a body pressed up behind her. The girl's stood frozen as Quinn slowly pulled Santana's hair out of her pony tail, her breath whispering against her neck.

Something deep within Santana suddenly snapped, "Quinn," she breathed. Her movements being controlled by something entirely foreign. She dropped her bag with a loud thud spinning around on spot before taking Quinn's face between her palms crashing her lips onto the blondes. Quinn let out a surprised gasp but sunk into the kiss as if she had already known Santana was going to kiss her.

They girls didn't waste time pushing tongues back and forth both battling for control, both wrestling with their hands bunching up the other girl's clothing wishing they could go under. Their bodies pressed tightly against each other, not allowing any space between. Santana's mind screamed no, trying to make her stop from running her hand down until it cupped Quinn's ass but something primitive in her chest pushed her forward efficiently pushing Quinn back onto her bed. Their afternoon was filled with cautious touches, making sure to keep both hands away from anything too scandalise.

After that afternoon both girls' lives were changed, flirtatious glances were exchanged in the change room, lingering touches in classrooms and desired eyes ranking each other in cheer performances. It wasn't until every day after school in Quinn's room when they were allowed to finally let their desires out latching onto each other dragging each other down.

They had successfully mastered the art of disguising their rapidly growing relationship. That was until senior year. Others begin to notice. They were beginning to get sloppy, letting things slip in the presence of their peers, being too close during free time. The fact that they had both broke up with their boyfriends at the beginning of senior year at roughly the same time did not help the rumor either.

On March third Quinn and Santana were caught in the changing rooms late after a Cheerio's practice. Quinn was kneeled in front of a panting and cursing Santana. The young freshman who had caught the pair reported it to Emily and from there everyone knew.

Two dykes were running the Cheerios.

Quinn was forbidden from seeing Santana, Santana still sulking in her own self-pity at home as her mother tried to comfort her. It wasn't until the end of spring break did Santana climb the tree outside Quinn's room, climbing into the blondes room, taking her lips into her own giving re birth to their own romance. She never truly came out but they never hid after. They weren't so interested in PDA at school partially because if it got back to Quinn's parents there would be harder rules set in place, and partially because Santana never really liked the idea of PDA. By senior prom both girls starred at each other, deciding on either going with each other or separate.

With a final argument with her parents Quinn moved out falling on the front porch of the Lopez's crying with two suitcases. She cried out about them disowning her because they had figured it out all this time. Without Frannie around anymore Quinn had nowhere else to turn except the Lopez's. The decision for prom was obvious then, without the glaring eyes of her parents. Quinn was able to hold Santana's hand leading her into the gymnasium at school as others watched in wonder as the two popular cheerleaders slow danced together.

Santana and Quinn had been together for so long Santana couldn't remember a life without her. She had been there in her highs, in her lows and all the in-betweens. She had fallen in love with Quinn easily, in fact she barely remembered their friendship before her love. But as Santana starred into her bathroom mirror almost eight years later from the shy meek sophomore, the memories of their struggle faded. It was as if it was someone else's life when she thought back on it.

Santana lent forward, brushing the mirrors surface with the tips of her fingers, trailing the reflection of her cheek bone. Santana had grown up with the girl, shared all her intimate moments with her, experienced a lot of firsts with her… so why did she feel lately she didn't want to share her lasts? Could it be possible that Quinn and Santana had simply out grown each other?

She had seen it before; many of her friends broke up with boyfriend and girlfriends monthly. But they were Quinn and Santana, people looked at them with open eyes, and asked 'how do you to stay so in love?" before Santana would exchange a loving look with her girlfriend and shrug, it was just easy for them. Maybe this was all a phase some downhill in their relationship, every relationship had bumps, she knew that. Santana smacked the glass straightening her back.

She began to pack a simple lunch aware of Quinn in the living room reading a book, the stereo playing soft rock. Santana scratched her forearm watching as her sandwich toasted.

"When will you be home?" Quinn inquired from the living room, placing her book down onto her lap.

Santana looked behind her shoulder, Quinn's hair still messy from her long sleep. She wore long grey cardigan, jeans, and a plain white v neck, and although she was dressed Santana could already guess she would still be in the same spot when she came home.

"Seven," Santana drawled, the ding of the toaster distracting her. She rolled her sandwich in a plastic bag placing it in her purse. "Can you look up when my bus is coming, I just need to get something from the bathroom."

Quinn nodded grabbing Santana's phone from the coffee table swiping it open as Santana rushed into the bathroom placing a few bobby pins in. She came back out Quinn looking at her with an arched brow.

"The next is in ten minutes," The blonde stated. Extending her hand offering it back to her girlfriend, "Since when are you interested in dance?" she added.

Suntan's head snapped up her eyes finally connecting with Quinn's, "What?"

"On your phone, it was open on the history of dance wiki page." Quinn gestured to the phone, now clutched in Santana's hand.

The Latina ran her tongue along her bottom lip, there was nothing to be worried about, no reason why she should feel worried about telling Quinn. It's not like she had cheated, she hadn't even flirted with another women, so why did she have such an urge to lie to Quinn, to hid Brittany from her? "I was bored."

Quinn easily accepted the fact, not really expecting anything else. Santana looked down at the time her shoulders sagging under new weight. "I should go, I'll see you later." She bent over kissing Quinn on her head quickly before grabbing her purse and walking away from her, towards the diner.

Work was just a blur, nothing was exciting, and it was the same.

That was until Brittany walked in almost two weeks ago.

Now Santana watched the door hopeful, waiting to her the dig of the door to check if it was her. So far no such luck. Santana felt like a fool, hoping a complete stranger would enter the diner practically regarding her as an old friend.

"Last day?" Matt asked to her side.

Out of all the employees at the Strider diner Santana liked Matt the most. He wasn't a complete idiot, and was actually funny once and awhile. She had even invited him to Quinn's surprise party at the end of next month. Santana punched in numbers onto her computer, "yep," she stated.

"We'll miss you,"

"It's only three weeks."

"I'll miss you." He clarified.

"Oh hush baby, you'll survive," Santana chimed.

"Easy for you to say you don't have to deal with the giant." Matt muttered, grabbing two plates that the chief had put out.

Santana checked behind her back, finding the person in context at one table taking down the orders. "Thank the lord for that, I need a break just from him." She laughed

Matt rolled his eyes balancing the two plates on his palms, walking back over to his table. Santana ripped the recipe that was produced handing it over it the couple.

Work passed slowly, the traffic lighter than usual on this Tuesday, a ding from the door caused Santana to look up, finding the glow of blonde hair walking in. she could feel her chest tighten, her fingers twitching at her sides.

"Holly shit," she heard Finn murmur beside her, "she's back." She looked to her side, finding the boy picking up a menu. As he took a step forward, she pushed him in the side, pulling the menu from his grip. "What the fu-"

"Hey there!" Santana greeted kindly grinning broadly at the girl.

"Hi," Brittany chipped back following Santana to a single table by the window. Santana laid the plastic booklet in front of the girl.

She ran her hand down her apron "is it going to be the usual?" she asked, smirking.

Brittany looked up her bright blue eyes slightly sparkling at the girl above her, "No, I only have that when I have to work."

Santana recognised then that the girl did not have any papers crowding her table, nor a laptop opened. "Did you finish your paper?"_ Stupid, _Santana mentally hit herself, of course she finished it she had told her a week ago it was due. Why couldn't Santana think of something smoother to say then that?

Brittan cracked a grin nodding her head, "Yeah I turned it in last Friday." Santana couldn't help but notice how much happier she looked from the other day, had she made up with her girlfriend? "Thank you for your help, who knew I would find a dance expert in a diner."

Santana felt embarrassment run to her face, but not enough to actually colour her cheeks. She shrugged humbly, taking out a wrapped fork and knife placing to the side of the girl, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"A coke please,"

Santana nodded, "I'll be right back with that."

Brittany smiled, watching her as she turned around. Santana moved back to where the kitchen was placed grabbing a glass cup and going to one of the taps. She saw a large object barrelling down on her, the tall boy fuming, he throw the dish rag he clutched in his hand over his shoulder crossing her arms over his chest. "What gives?"

"We have already been through this Finnonce, don't repeat yourself." She drawled, pushing in the order onto the computer, trying her best to avoid any type of eye contact with him, hoping it would send the message.

Clearly she was wrong.

"Do you like sabotaging me?" he asked annoyed,

"That's not what this is about."

"Oh yeah? Because I am pretty sure ever since that night you have had a death order in place for me." he fumed. She rolled her eyes, yanking the rag from his shoulder and throwing it into the bucket underneath the counter.

"This really isn't the place, or the time." Santana growled, "In fact I could get you fired for yelling at me like this, but it's my last day so I'll be nice this time."

"I said sorry like a million times!" he attempted to reason, "Stop holding that grudge."

"Maybe next time you should stick your tongue down my girlfriend's throat, when she clearly said 'no'"

"I didn't know she was gay," he whined.

"Oh my god, that's not even part of it, you shoved your tongue in unwilling girl's moth, you pig." She spat, finally turning around to walk back to Brittany's table with her drink snatching a straw on the way and popping it into the dark liquid.

Finn rubbed his check, remembering the well placed punch Santana had landed afterwards. He craned his jaw looking up at the new costumers who had entered grabbing three menus angrily.

Santana sat the dink beside Brittany, forgetting the previous conversation quickly. "There you go."

Brittany smiled taking a sip from her dink "thank you."

"Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?" Santana inquired pulling her pen from her pocket.

"Actually do you think you could help me out, I don't know what's best here." Brittany requested timidly, "After all I have only had the chicken nuggets."

Santana grinned softly, moving in closer beside the blonde to look down at the menu, she flipped to the burger section running her finger down the selection stopping at her target. "The Swiss cheese burger is really good," Santana tapped the description.

"Should I get the house salad or French fries?" Brittany asked,

Santana bit her lip, trailing the length of the blondes body, "I like the French fries more and I am sure you can deal with a few extra calories it doesn't look like you have much problem in that department.".

"Benefit of being a dancer." The blonde shrugged handing her menu to Santana.

"Well you certainly have the….uh-"

Brittany giggled, placing her hands under her chin. Santana stuttered, her feet not knowing what to do, "U-uhm…I'll be right back with your order." Santana raced away from the smoldering blue eyes, rushing to place the order into the computer and hand it over to the chief.

"What's wrong with you?" Santana jumped, her head whipping around to find Matt with a stunned expression.

"Nothing!"

"If you say so…" he grimaced, "You seem really jumpy."

Santana ignored him, picking up the two plates that were pushed onto the counter. "You're crazy." She stated, walking away to her other table, handing them their hot meals. She smiled at both giving them kind comments before walking away. She wasn't jumpy, Matt was just seeing things.

"Is it Finn?" Matt enquired popping his head around to Santana.

Santana growled, flicking his forehead, "It's always Finn."

"Okay true, but more so than usual?" Matt winced, rubbing his skin where a small red mark was blossoming.

"It's nothing."

"Is it Quinn?" Matt asked "Did you fight about milk again?" he drawled out, leaning on his open palm grinning foolishly at her. It did amuse him that they had fought so furiously over something like milk. When Santana called him a few weeks ago ranting about how Quinn hardly knew her, he had expected her to say that she gave her pecan nuts in her food, (which Santana was allergic to)…not bought the "wrong" type of milk. The two girls never failed to humor the boy.

"It wasn't just some fight about milk Matt." Santana muttered

"Sorry," he raised his hands "Skim milk."

"-No!" Santana barked "It's about her getting distracted by some bimbo." She huffed.

"So this is about Quinn then?"

Santana threw her hands up in frustration, "No- just never mind," she turned around swiping a cloth across the counter, "Don't you have some work to be doing?"

"I finished ten minutes ago," he grinned, swaying his hips back and forth on the spot.

"Peachy."

"I guess I'll see you soon though?" he pushed from the counter straightening his back out.

"That's the plan," Santana bit.

Matt hoisted his jacket on, walking toward the door, "Have a good last day!" he called from the door, opening up. She waved him off grumbling to herself.

Without the distraction of her darker friend she found her eyes slowly crawling back to the blonde, her eyes landing on her sitting form. Brittany was looking to the door her face slightly twisted with some emotion Santana couldn't place, disappointment maybe? Santana pulled her lip in between her teeth chewing it on it lightly.

She had only really felt attraction to one other girl then Quinn. It had been her first year in New York and her first year at NYU hey name was Ashley and she had been on the cheerleading squad. Santana thankful had left her cheerleading days in her past, achieving enough abuse from her coach to ever make her consider joining another team. But seeing Ashley in the tight polyester top and short skirt did something to Santana blame it on the memories if you will. But every time she saw Ashley perform in front of a crowd flipping in the air, doing back hamstrings, and cheers it made her heart race just a bit quicker. One day in her first class of the week – her only class with the famous Ashley- she looked up to find the brunette looking at her with a small smirk, her eyes dancing across Santana's exposed legs. Santana smiled back feeling a sudden rush at the recognition of. Santana cold recognise a lesbian when she saw one, and this girl defiantly had the hots for her. After class she was approached by Ashley, the taller girl twirled her hair on one finger, corning Santana in the hallway.

"So can you believe we haven't been introduced yet?" Ashley said cheekily

"I suppose it is a little crazy," Santana shrugged, acting uninterested.

"We should go out to coffee sometime, so we can get better induced with each other."

"I-," Santana chocked, her mind running back to Quinn's sleeping form she had left that morning. Her blond hair pushed up in front of her face, stirring with every outtake of breath. Santana starred at Ashley, her eyes focusing on her red lips, that she pulled into her mouth, awaiting Santana's answer in desire. "-I have a girlfriend." She finished filled with guilt.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry-"

Ashley waved her hands in front of her, smiling, "no need to be, I'll see you around alright Santana?"

"Yeah…"

Santana held her tongue, until Quinn was getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth. But seeing her so content in their bathroom, getting ready for bed caused Santana to snap, she finally fessed up telling Quinn all about her energy exchange with Ashley, and her attraction to the cheerleader. Quinn took it better then she expected, assuring Santana that things like this would happen. Santana didn't deserve someone like Quinn reassuring her, but there she was sitting on their bed holding Santana's hand tenderly, stroking her thumb across her palm.

In a moment Quinn's face lightened up, running up to her closest, pulling down a box uncapping it and taking a red outfit out wiggling her eyebrows.

"At least I now know your fetish." Quinn giggled undressing and placing on her old cheerleading uniform on. Before Santana had time to say national championships she had Quinn straddling her, her high pony allowing Santana free access to her neck. As Quinn laid Santana down she bent down to her ear, grazing her ear with her moist lips, "I can be whoever you want S."

/

She grabbed the plate on the counter walking back to Brittany's table. The blonde still looked sour, Santana noted. She placed her dish in front of her, dropping both hands on her hips. Brittany looked at the burger, with less interest than a toddler looking at the stock market numbers.

"Do you need a re-fill on your coke?" Santana pointed to her half empty glass.

"It's not empty yet," Brittany stated calmly.

Santana stood back, her lips stuck together, "Well I hope you enjoy your meal, let me know if there is anything I can get you." Santana grinned

"You're leaving?" the dancer asked nervously.

"leaving?" Santana responded slightly stunned,

"That man said… "

"Oh, yeah today is my last day." Santana stated surprised at the girl's outburst. Brittany looked to be contemplating something, her eyes ranking her food, before lifting to meet Santana's.

"Why are you leaving?"

Santana scratched the back of her neck, "I just need some time off, I have been working here for years now."

"You'll be back?"

"In about a month," Santana nodded.

"Oh," Brittany twitched, picking up a fry and dipping it into her ketchup, "thank you." She lifted the fry.

"Yeah no problem," Santana left, helping other costumer order, picking up old dishes and cleaning used tables. Her eyes would always find their way back at the busy blonde, Brittany silently eating her meal alone, why was that? Why was Brittany always alone in the Diner?

Finally Santana walked back up to Brittany staring at the half eaten plate, "How is everything?"

"It's all good."

"Awesome,"

Santana stepped back but was stopped by Brittany's hand clasping around her wrist softly. Santana gasped silently looking at the pale hand. Her skin boiled at the innocent touch the hair on the back of her neck rising up. Brittany seemed to sense Santana's imminent reaction letting the wrist go.

"Wait," she blurted. Santana looked down puzzled, Brittany played with her napkin, ripping a small hole on the corner. "I have this performance this Saturday, it isn't that big but I thought maybe you would like to go, as a thank you for helping me finish my paper."

"Brittany,"

"-I'm sure you will like it actually since you are interested in dance. I will be in it, it's an interpretive jazz performance." She rambled on, cutting Santana off.

"That's…"

"I know it sounds weird, I just thought you might find it interesting. You don't have to go I'll understand if you're busy."

Santana looked helplessly down at the girl, her bright blue eyes turned down in accepted defeat. Her mind raced back to her previous memories. This time though her gut twisted for a different reason, her heart speeding up filled with undefined adrenaline.

"I'll go," She breathed.

Brittany's eyes snapped up in wonder, her cheek bones bunching up. "Great!" She cheered, "When do you get off?"

"Seven."

"I can get you the ticket by then, I'll just run home and get them."

"I'll need two," Santana hesitantly added.

"Oh,"

"For my girlfriend." She blurted

"Oh." Brittany eyes turned down a bit, but only for a moment until she was picking up her last bit of her burger swallowing it quickly, "That's fine, I can take the cheque now, so I can get back in time."

"Of course," Santana beamed, walking away this time to print off a recipe.

Brittany was up and out of the door in a blink of an eye, grasping her black purse in her fist. Santana chuckled to herself. She served others, passing the time quietly looking down at her watch, grimacing when she saw it was twenty to, where was that girl?

Santana was just wrapping up the last few tables, handing them bills and ringing their totals up when she heard the familiar ring of the door. Santana's head snapped up, smiling when she spotted the blonde in the thresh hold, two paper slips clutched in her hand by her side. Santana held a finger up checking the time moving to the back room hanging up her apron, and picking up her purse.

She came back out to find Brittany nervously pinching at her shirt as Finn loomed over her. Brittany's eyes filled with unremorseful boredom, twitching over to Santana when she came out of the room. Her lips cracked upwards, the brunette narrowing her eyes on the back of the loaf of man. She jumped to Brittany's side craning her neck backwards to give Finn a sharp glare.

"But maybe if you're free sometime…" he drabbled on. Santana rolled her eyes, finding Brittany's blue eyes open in concern.

"I, uhm…" she stuttered, "I have a girlfriend, sorry." She finished,

Santana smirked triumphal up at Finn

Told you.

He looked a bit stunned, but masked it with a kind smile, "oh, well I'll see you around anyways."

"yeah."

"See you Santana, have a good break."

Santana nodded up at Finn, "Yeah see you in a few weeks."

Brittany turned to Santana once Finn had walked away. "Sorry about being so late, I thought I would be faster" she handed Santana the two tickets, her lips pulled into her mouth.

"You're not late." Santana urged, taking the tickets from Brittany, her fingers brushing the blondes. She looked up once she safely held the slips of paper, her eyes sparkling up at the blonde, "You're right on time."

* * *

A.N: I didn't get much of a response last chapter, please let me know if you like this story/ if I should keep going with it.

thank you for reading.


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